


second star to the right

by fireflavoredwhiskey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Clinical Depression, Depression, M/M, Psychological Drama, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 23:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10449651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/pseuds/fireflavoredwhiskey
Summary: "Kuro," he whispered, "Are you real?"Please tell me you're real.The other guy smiled lightly, matching his gaze with an unfathomable depth and meaning. The light in his eyes flickered."I am," Kuroo said, then he touched Kenma's temples with his pointer finger. "In here, at least."





	

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [The Playlist™](https://open.spotify.com/user/ellesanmiguel/playlist/1OTSS96GVvfRegtsoMhk3U)

###  _**dreams and reality** _

 

"Remember when the days were long  
And rolled beneath a deep blue sky;  
Didn't have a care in the world;  
With mommy and daddy standin' by,  
But 'happily ever after' fails;  
And we've been poisoned by these fairy tales."

ㅡ  **Don Henley** , _The End of the Innocence_

 

 **★** 彡

 

Kenma was six the first time he saw and met Kuroo. He vividly remembered how he stumbled into his room from the open window, excited and clumsy. Kenma frowned then, watching him as he groaned and rubbed the side of his hip, sitting on the wooden floor.

When the he looked up and their eyes locked, the mysterious guy grinned. As a child, Kenma was basically naive and innocent. But he already knew then that what's happening was weird. Not only the idea of a stranger in a prince's costume complete with an askew crown bustling in his window was a whole lot of creepy but also because Kenma's room was the attic. It was odd because, duh, he already knew at age six that humans can't fly. How did he come from the window? Unless he's got a ladder..? But The Mad Man hasn't got any, so.

"Hello," The Mad Man said in a low voice, a slow smirk uplifting his cheek. He didn't know his name by then. "The Mad Man" just seemed fitting for Kuroo inside Kenma's head. His accent was like Kenma's mum's: sharp and familiar. But somehow, Kuroo's accent  _was_  different. It has a lilt to it, like he was always drunk. Few years later Kenma would learn that it's because Kuroo was  _indeed_  usually intoxicated. He's a grown up man, all right, maybe around nineteen by the looks of him—many years older than six-year old Kenma himself.

"Who are you?" Kenma raised a brow, half-whispering in the dim room even if no one's there to hear them. Mum and Uncle Saki were already asleep, and Kenya's gone because of a school trip. He sat up from his bed, blinking as if to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He tightly clutched the PSP in his hand.

The Mad Man stood up from the floor and walked up to the edge of his bed, bowing. "Good evening, gentleman." he said. Then he straightened up. "I'm Prince Kuroo Tetsurou from the Kingdom of Nekoma."

"Nekoma?" Kenma deadpanned. He was born skeptical, the poor soul. But a bright one, at that. "There are  _no_  monarchy kingdoms in Japan."

The other guy crossed his arms in his chest. The smirk on his face was still there. "Tsk, tsk." He said. "Your mind is so narrow. You gotta be creative, kid. Pessimism will lead you to nothing."

Kenma stared, unimpressed, but he decided to go along. "Nekoma. Is that where you live?"

"Yes." Prince Kuroo nodded, enthusiastically. "Haven't you heard that place before?"

Kenma actually struggled to think of a Nekoma before, but all his mind could think was only  _Tokyo_ and  _Hokkaido_  and a  _far, far away kingdom_  so, "No." he shook his head. "Mum and Dad and Uncle Saki didn't tell me about a Nekoma. Neither did Teacher Maya. Nor Kenya." He paused, remembering something. "Is Nekoma  _in_  Tokyo?"

Kuroo frowned, but then Kenma caught a glimpse of yellow glitter flying from Kuroo's front pocket of his suit. It hovered around him for a few seconds. "Hmm," he said.

Kenma shrugged, watching the glitter fly around him. Kuroo noticed him watching it and said, "Yachi," he said. "You're making him dizzy, stop flying around and introduce yourself,"

He found Kuroo talking to a flying glitter funny so, "You're talking to a glitter bee?"

Then he heard a faint buzz and the glitter was in front of his nose. And just then he realized that the glitter bee wasn't a bee at all.

"What did you call me, kid?" the glitter snapped. "I'm not even close to a bee! I am a  _pixie_!" The pretty glitter was speaking! It was so surprising that Kenma momentarily lost his train of childish thoughts.

His jaw dropped but he closed it again for fear of swallowing the fairy. Pixie, rather. He figured having Yachi the pixie inside his stomach wasn't pretty. "Whoa," Kenma said. "Fairies are real? This is amazing! It's like  _Demons vs. Dragons_!"

Kuroo tilted his head sideways. "Like what?"

" _Demons vs. Dragons_! Don't you know that?" He held up his hand excitedly, showing him his PSP. "It's a game!"

The Mad Man  _hmm_ ed, looking at Kenma.

"Hey!" Yachi squeaked, shaking her head, "I'm not a demon! Nor a dragon! Little kid believed Tetsu is a real Nekoma prince and you didn't believe I  _am_  a pixie?" She also has the same accent.

"I didn't say I believe he is a prince." Kenma defended. "But he's dressed like one, so."

Kenma watched this beautiful miniature girl with a pair of fairy wings fluttering behind her. Her face was so lovely it's almost dreamlike. Her presence was so uplifting and radiant and mesmerizing. Kenma remembered wanting to be a fairy the first time he met Yachi. He'd wanted to wear a pretty dress, too, made of green silk scraps and have his locks in a pretty blond glittery waves.

Kuroo chuckled, "Little kid is just stunned, Yachi."

Kenma looked at him, suddenly realizing something. "Wow." he breathed, standing on his bed and pointing at him. "Why are you here?" he whispered, then paused. "Are you Peter Pan?! Are you making me a fairy too? I want to be! I want to be one, too!" His face was so determined.

"Whoa, love." Kuroo smiled, setting his hands on his shoulders, calming him down. "You can't be a fairy," he chuckled. "And I'm more handsome than Peter Pan!"

Kenma's shoulders slumped. "What? Why can't I?"

Kuroo grinned, eyes twinkling. He remembered thinking of all the happy things when Kuroo's presence was there. If Yachi made Kenma wonder, Kuroo made his stomach flutter in an unrecognizable whim and joy. It always felt like autumn and home when he was with Kuroo. And, that was odd enough because after all, he's a stranger from his bedroom window. A very charming stranger. "You just can't," Kuroo finally said.

He remembered the disappointment eating him out. But when Kuroo said, "But I can take you to 'Pixie Land',"

He looked up at him, eyes wide, all skepticism vanished. "Really?!"

Kuroo nodded, smiling. His smile was disturbing yet so endearing. Even as a child, Kenma found it so easy to befriend him, considering he was a social outcast since then and that his one and only friend was Tomi. Tomi was Kenma's PSP. "Where is that place?" Kenma asked him curiously.

Kuroo chuckled as Yachi the fairy was flying and swirling around them, bursting with more light and glitter. "Of course it's in Nekoma!" He held his hand to him, as if asking Kenma for permission. "Let's go?"

He looked at his hand. "Is Nekoma in Tokyo? Or is it in Hokkaido? Because, I can't go back to Hokkaido yet. Mummy said I won't be back till I'm well. Even if I wanna go back."

Tokyo and Hokkaido were the only places Kenma knew well that time. Tokyo being where Mum was and Hokkaido being where Dad was. And Hokkaido being home.

"It's okay, love. It's not in anywhere else you've ever been," Kuroo assured, helping him go down his four-poster bed. Kenma's room in Tokyo was lavish, compared to his small room back home with Dad. But still, he missed it. When he stood up, he barely reached Kuroo's waist, so he's thankful when he crouched down his height, with Yachi the pixie sitting on his shoulder. "You're ready?" he smiled, ignoring the fact that Kenma was still in his pajamas.

He nodded anyway, feeling like a rebel. He stashed Tomi inside his pajama pockets.

When they were already at the window, Kenma became scared. "Are we going to come back?"

Yachi giggled. "Of course." she said. " Just tonight, we'll let you come,"

Kenma's confidence and happiness grew heavy. For the first time in his life, he was ecstatic and full of mirth that he didn't realize Yachi was suddenly bursting with glitter. Too much glitter.

"You're glowing!" Kenma marveled and shrieked in delight. "Kuroo!" he called him, "I'm going to fall!" He kept on urging him out the window. "I'm going to— _ahhh_ —"

Kuroo chuckled beside him as they fell, and Kenma remembered the sight of blurry Tokyo as they went down, down, down. "You can't fall, love!" Kuroo shouted. "I won't let you!"

Kenma frowned, then he gasped and he was sobbing. He knew the fall should be fast and all, but it's like the time stopped because it seemed to go for ages. Oh, god. The feeling was unearthly. He was submissive towards gravity. It's pure joy that it's so frightening. "My name's not  _'Love'_!" Kenma shouted.

"I know!" Kuroo shouted back, and he just knew that they were going to die. He was sure of it. "I know that, Kenma!"

But he didn't die. Right when they're about to hit the pavement, everything shone. And when he opened his eyes, he was already in a different place. It wasn't scary at all, he realized. On contrary, it was the best night of his childhood. A dream come true for a child who wants to see fairies and enchanting things.

And Kenma was still laughing today whenever he remembered Kuroo dancing along the music of the ukulele. He danced terribly, he can assure you. It was so hilarious. But at least he  _could_  sing.

It's a long night. And they ate apple candies and tarts and pumpkin pies in a riverboat.

Kenma forgot everything at all, including asking Kuroo how did he know his name.

 

**★** 彡

 

The second time Kuroo visited him was when he was eight. He was still a child back then but that was the time he remembered the exact shade of Kuroo's eyes and his face and his disheveled hair. Also his voice. Kenma would never forget his voice. And that's also the time he established the idea that Kuroo was his best friend.

"Kuroo?" he asked as he was carrying him in a piggy-back ride while they were walking on the mountains, near the old shrine uphill. They were at Nekoma again, and he swore his Mum was already frantic that he's missing. Or was he?

Kuroo was wearing a traditional yukata like the ones he remembered Dad also once wore back in a Hokkaido. It was vibrant in color. Kenma, meanwhile, was still in his thick clothes for winter because Kuroo visited him just as they went home from a New Year dinner party. He was sad that time because Dad wasn't there. Kenma was so close to crying the whole party but he didn't. It was up until he twisted his ankle when he tripped while Kuroo was chasing him. He didn't know, actually. Maybe all the sadness just caught up and BAM. He was just crying.

Kuroo didn't say anything. Just wiped his tears and kissed him on the forehead and silently carried Kenma. Thus, the whole reason why he's carrying him.

"Hmm," Kuroo said, answering his call.

Kenma sniffed. "Where are we—" sob, "—going?"

Kenma felt him smile. His right cheek was against his left. His chin on his shoulder. His arms looped loosely around his neck. "Do you want hot chocolate?" Kuroo asked.

He perked up. "Daddy makes hot chocolates, too,"

Kuroo smiled wider. "We're gonna get you some, okay?"

He didn't ask him why he cried. Although Kenma knew that he knew it wasn't just because of the swollen ankle. And for his silence, he was grateful.

As promised, though, he got Kenma some hot chocolate. And he also met Akaashi. Akaashi can make great hot chocolates, like Kenma's Dad. He can't tell which one was better. But Akaashi makes the best rice cake. And his smile was heaven. When Kenma told that to Kuroo, he just blinked and stared. He frowned a bit but smiled.

"Kenma's got a crush on Keiji,"

He blushed. Because it seemed wrong. "N-no," He stuttered. "He's a boy. I'm a boy."

Kuroo laughed. "So what? It's okay," he assured him. "Keiji likes you too. A lot."

Kenma's eyes grew wide. "Really?" he asked. He was already tucking him to bed, after giving Kenma the time to change clothes and all. And after Mum cried saying she thought Kenma ran away for real this time. She already tucked him to bed. But then Kenma can't sleep that night unless Kuroo tucked him in as well.

Kuroo nodded, smiling. "Of course," he mumbled, kissing his forehead. Kenma felt happy when he did that. "We all like you, Kenma."

Kenma closed his eyes. "Do you like me too, Kuroo?"

He was silent. Then, "Yeah." he said. "Yeah. More than Akaashi likes you." he said faintly. But there's something different in his tone. It was melancholic, Kenma would realize.

Kenma might be considering answering that  _he_  liked him. too. Maybe more than he liked Akaashi because Akaashi's hot chocolate and rice cakes  _were_  great but Kuroo  _was_  his best friend. Even if Kenma only saw him in Tokyo and his presence was unpredictable and very peculiar. But before he can do that, he felt his consciousness slipping away. Then he was asleep.

The next morning, Kuroo was gone again.

 

**★** 彡

 

The third, and the last time Kenma saw Kuroo was when he was twelve. He still remembered it very clearly. The sound of all the voices and the panicked chatter. The echoes of cries. It was deafening, and Kenma was numb.

He remembered his Dad asking him if he wanted some hot chocolate or anything at all. For the first time, Kenma declined.

It was also his Dad's first time in Tokyo. It was spring break, and Kenma didn't know what are they doing in a hospital, instead of anywhere else happier than white walls and latex gloves. He also didn't know why Dad was here. He said before he didn't like Tokyo at all, so why was he here? Why was everyone here?

Kenma didn't like what's happening. He didn't know what's happening at all.

It was just when Kenma saw his twin sister that he understood.

Kenya and Kenma weren't that close, since she lived at Mum's and he was at Dad's. He didn't know her. But somehow, seeing her in a hospital bed, a white sheet draped on her whole body, eyes closed and unmoving, made Kenma's throat tightened.

And not just that, really. It was the fact that everybody around him was sad and frantic and crying. And he was so helpless and hopeless and sad.

That very moment, he realized that the world was big. Kenma just realized how small he was for this massive space around him and, for most of the people in this world he meant  _nothing_.

The world was beautiful and wonderful and terrifying all at once. We can build dreams and hopes and memories and tears. We can discover the wonder of stars. We can be everything.

But everything has an end.

They said death wasn't the end. But they were wrong. Just the impact of the reality that Kenma would never hear Kenya's frail voice again in the shower showed a dead end of something. And that  _something_  bears certain significance in his life.

(Kenma hasn't thought any of these things when he was twelve. He realized these exactly four years later, when he was facing another mess which is to say his teenage life.)

Right then, Kenma was alone. He was in a long hallway outside a hospital room that day. He was tired. It was a boring day. Full of crying people. He's sitting on a bench beside the elevators, and he was staring at the wall across the lift which was on his right side. The wall was painted white. Pure white. And words were on the wall he was staring at. It says  _BASEMENT: Morgue._

The temperature was cold. And it smelled funny.

He felt someone sat on his left side, just beside him. And Kenma wasn't surprised at all. When he looked, it was Kuroo. He guessed he was expecting him.

He was dressed now in a simple white long sleeved shirt. He was in a jumper and laced brown boots. The only thing that didn't change at all was his hair.

"Hey," Kenma said as a preamble.

Kuroo looked up, his elbows were on his knees. He smiled. "Kenma,"

He looked back at the wall. "What are you this time?"

Silence. Then, "What?" he said.

"The first time, you're a prince. And the last time, you're a.. I dunno? You're wearing a yukata."

Kuroo chuckled. "I'm a homeless artist this time."

Kenma frowned as he looked closely at him, and then suddenly, Kuroo was sketching something with his charcoal pencil, and a few yellowing paper sheets. He really swore he wasn't holding those a few seconds earlier.

"An artist?" Kenma asked.

Suddenly, the hospital was fading. The white walls were turning to pink and orange skies. And it didn't smell so bad anymore. It smelled like tangerine and grass and.. Kuroo. It smelled like Kuroo. He always smelled like autumn and summer and green grass combined.

As Kenma looked around, he smiled. They were at the mountain shrine again.

He can't remember a lot of things then. Maybe because Kenma was asleep the whole time after Kuroo handed him his sketch. It was a sketch of him. Kenma was looking back, smiling and his hair looked beautiful. As strong and as dark as an onyx. It was beautiful. It was the first time Kenma believed he  _was_  beautiful.

Kenma fell asleep on Kuroo's lap. And Kuroo was singing a soothing song with a melody he didn't know. But until now, he still remembered it clearly.

When Kenma opened his eyes momentarily, and the picture was foggy, he asked faintly, "How old are you, Kuroo?"

He stopped singing and whispered, still playing with his long dark hair. "I don't know. Eighteen? Twenty?"

"Are you a ghost? A  _yokai?"_

He chuckled. "No, Kenma."

"Then what are you?" He asked, but didn't care.

"Does it matter?" He chuckled.

Kenma smiled, closing his eyes. "No," he whispered.. "Not at all." He said, then paused. "I like you in your costume anyway…" his voice faded.

He wasn't able to ask him such confusing things anymore. Like, why is he not aging since he saw him? Where are his parents? Can he do magic? Is God real..?

No, Kenma wasn't able to ask those. Partly because he was so tired of thinking and partly because, he knew then that whatever the answer to any of those, he wouldn't care. He just closed his eyes and feel happy and grateful that Kuroo was there, and that he felt loved and cared for.

When Kenma opened his eyes, he was back at the hospital bench again, curled up and asleep. He got up when he heard sounds of footsteps and then Kenma was being tackled by arms and Mum was crying and sobbing and God. He wished Kuroo was still here.

"Kenma, baby!" Mum gasped. "Where have you been?! Oh my God we've been looking for you! Don't you ever do that again!" she wailed. "After what happened to your sister.."

"Mum, I was just here. I fell asleep, I dunno." He shrugged.

"Kozume Kenma!" She said. "Stop lying! You weren't  _anywhere_!"

"Mum.."

"Just.. don't.." she sobbed, and hugged him again. "Have you taken your meds, sweetie? Are you okay?"

Kenma hugged her back, nodding, even if he  _never_  took his meds because he felt like he didn't need it at all. Besides, it made his brain fuzzy. It made him harder to call Kuroo when Kenma needed him. He was just feeling a little guilty. He was feeling sadder and sadder again till they're at the car. Uncle Saki was driving them home because Mum and Dad were still doing something. Kenma didn't want to know.

Then he felt something crumpled in his pocket. When he checked it, he frowned.

It was Kuroo's sketch of him, folded in quarters, but still intact.

 _K.T. 25/10/07_  was scrawled at the bottom.

Kenma smiled. Then put it again in his pocket before Uncle Saki saw it.

He was going to thank Kuroo when he saw him next time. The problem was, he never showed up again. Kenma wanted to tell him about his new doctor, and how Kenma hated her so much. The doctor wanted Kenma to name and talk about his friends. But when he told her about Kuroo and Yachi and Akaashi, the doctor said they weren't real. Kenma  _was_  angry. He didn't come back to his sessions with her after that.

Kenma waited for a year. And two.. and three.. and four.. Then he decided five years was long enough. And besides, he's getting older. And Kuroo wasn't. Ever, he supposed.

The fifth, his faith was already slipping away. Maybe Kuroo  _was_  fictional after all. But then again, his sketch was still well-kept. Kenma hadn't looked at it for the past two years, since he was fifteen.

And he wasn't planning on looking at it anytime soon.

 


End file.
